


Fool Me Once, Shame On You

by nexparker



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Irondad, Other, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter's in denial, Sickfic, spiderson, tony has a dash of ptsd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:47:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24239794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nexparker/pseuds/nexparker
Summary: In which Peter tricks Tony into thinking he’s absolutely fine. Almost.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Fool Me Once, Shame On You

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-blip but pretend that everyone made it back and that none of the other events from Endgame happened. Also, pretend Peter is still able to get sick/get allergies.
> 
> Word Count: 6.5k
> 
> Warnings: medical procedures (and inaccuracies), needles, swearing... i can’t think of anything else so if something in this triggers you i’m so sorry please let me know so I can add it here

It was nothing. Really, it was. At least that’s what Peter told himself about the headache forming behind his eyes. The dull pain had started in 6th period that afternoon, leading the hero to believe that he hadn’t gotten enough sleep or something (which was not uncommon for Peter). However, the slight throbbing that started practically as nothing began to feel like a little more sitting on the front step of Midtown Tech. 

Rubbing his left temple with one hand, Peter checked the time on his phone again, guessing that the reason for Happy’s tardiness was traffic or something mundane of the sort. Minutes felt like hours; he had been waiting for this day for weeks. Somehow (Peter still isn’t quite sure how), he had convinced May to allow him to spend the weekend at the Avengers compound upstate. Tony said that he could use Peter’s help adding a few upgrades (and new ridiculously named protocols) to Peter’s suit. The idea of living with the Avengers, even for just a weekend, was enough for Peter to ignore the pain in his sinuses.

Watching Happy pull up in the black Audi he had gotten familiar brought a new wave of excitement to Peter’s system. He pushed himself to his feet, trying to ignore the fact that he got a little lightheaded upon standing up. Happy opened the door and exited the car before observing the teen practically bounce over to the curb to get in the car. 

Peter greeted Happy, enthusiastic as ever, which the man reciprocated, before mentally preparing himself to listen to the kid’s excited ramblings. Peter threw his bag into the backseat of the car, climbing in after it, more ready than ever to be at the compound already. Happy followed suit, replying to the teen’s never-ending quips and comments when the occasion called for it as they began the drive.

A bit through the ride, Peter knew he was reaching the point where he would usually be taking a small catnap. He would probably be up all night in the lab with Tony and coffee and his spider DNA don’t mix well (Ned still has the video he took of Peter crawling around on the ceiling at 3 AM, babbling incoherently after having a few sips when studying late for a test). However, Peter found it damn near impossible to find a comfortable position in the back seat, thanks to the significant amount of pressure he felt in his face. His nose was starting to get leaky, which he fixed with a quick, yet disgusting, wipe of his shirt sleeve.

‘Ugh. It’s definitely allergy season,’ he thought.

Sighing, the teen plugged his earbuds into the jack on his phone before turning on one of his playlists. At least he would be at the compound soon, where he could take something to help it. That would definitely make it go away, right?

Peter learned a couple of hours later, that he was wrong about this. The Benadryl he had taken had barely even touched the cloudy stuffy feeling in his head (he was sure that his enhanced metabolism wasn’t doing him any favors either). Currently, he was bent over the sink in the bathroom of the guest bedroom that Tony had led him to a few moments before. He had put on a facade for his mentor, but as soon as he had been left to “get settled”, Peter made a beeline for the bathroom, out of range from FRIDAY’s cameras and microphones. Standing in front of the sink, Peter attempted to take some deep breaths through his nose with little success. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls and when he looked in the mirror, the bags under his eyes looked slightly puffy, making it even **more** obvious that he had gotten no sleep recently. He had no luck when trying to clear his throat as well, leaving his voice thick and nasally. 

‘Great.’ Peter grumbled. One of these days he swore he would move somewhere with a lower pollen count. Wiping his nose again (with a tissue this time), Peter exited the room, hoping that this was only a temporary issue. It was just seasonal allergies, right?

While waiting for the elevator to head to the lab, Peter quickly reviewed his reflection in the shiny doors. He looked a little pale and was slightly sweaty, but he brushed it off, hoping it wasn’t as noticeable as he thought it was. He wiped the sweat off his forehead just as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. Stepping inside, he was greeted by FRIDAY who asked him where he would like to go. 

“Can you take me to the labs, please? Mr. Stark is waiting for me.” Peter asked the AI.

“Of course, Peter. I shall inform boss of your arrival.” She replied the doors to the elevator slid shut before beginning its descent. The feeling of traveling down several floors at such a speed was not something Peter welcomed in his current state; the change in pressure at such a high speed left him lightheaded, almost like all the blood had drained from his head. Leaning against the wall of the elevator, Peter shut his eyes and tried to will away the dizziness that came with the elevator ride. 

“Peter, are you alright?” the teen opened his eyes to FRIDAY’s voice before pushing off the wall and responding.

“Yeah, I’m alright, just slightly dizzy.” He waved it off.

“Are you sure?” the AI prompted. “You seem to be in distress. Shall I notify Mr. Stark?”

“No!” Peter replied immediately. “I’m really okay, I promise. Please don’t tell Mr. Stark.” 

“As you wish, Peter.” 

As their conversation ended, the elevator came to a slow stop, alerting Peter of his arrival to the labs. The doors slid open, allowing the teen to exit into the laboratory, ACDC blasting out of the speakers as per usual. Peter attempted to clear his throat again, trying to avoid sounding like he had finished puberty since Tony had last seen him.

Stepping into the cluttered space, Peter easily found his mentor working at a desktop in the middle of the room.

“Hi, Mr. Stark,” Peter called out a greeting, moving towards Tony.

This caught the attention of the older man, who spun around to face Peter. Somehow he managed to miss the nasally sound of the teen’s voice.

“Hey, kiddo. Glad you’re finally here. Pick up that screwdriver, we’ve got some work to do.”

Peter smiled, glad to finally be able to take his mind off whatever war was being raged in his body for a while. 

A couple of hours into it, Peter knew something was definitely wrong. His headache and dizziness had only grown worse to the point where the kid was practically swaying on his feet. The pressure behind his eyes had spread like wildfire to his face and he was wiping at his nose every couple of seconds. Tony had begun to pick up Peter’s general fogginess when he noticed the kid zoning out for the third time in the last 15 minutes. 

Tony snapped his fingers in front of the kid’s face.

“Hey, Walter Mitty? Kid, you in there?” Tony asked, pulling the kid out of his daze.

“Wha-? Oh, sorry!” Peter shook his head to clear it, sniffling slightly on the side.

“You okay there, squirt?” the older man cocked his head to the side, finally getting a good look at Peter. To be honest, he kinda looked like shit. Something flared inside of Tony, kind of like a warning. Something was definitely up.

“Yeah. Fine. Just tired y’ know?” Peter answered absentmindedly. 

“You sure? You look like the floor is about to become your pillow any second now.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Peter answered. “ **I don’t feel so good.** That’s all.” 

All it took was those 5 words to make Tony’s heart freeze over. He was instantly dragged back to 5 years before when Peter had said the same thing before collapsing into Tony’s arms and fading to dust. Panic filled Tony’s chest and all that ran through his mind were two words: “Not again.”

Next thing he knew, Peter was being dragged out of the lab by his mentor. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where are we going, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked much more alert now.

“To make sure you’re okay.”

“What?! I’m _**fine**_ _,_ Mr. Stark, I promise!” Peter exclaimed, still clinging onto the idea that he was just having an allergic reaction to the high pollen count outside. It was April, after all.

In his mind, Peter cursed his poor word choice and began trying to formulate a way out of this. He knew Tony was just worried, but he hated worrying his mentor. It had messed him up when Peter was snapped away, which the teen slowly learned by Tony’s new habits that he formed when Peter blipped back. He would check up on him more, actually call his phone to hear his patrol reports instead of letting Happy take the call. He hugged him more, which Peter still found slightly strange, but appreciated nonetheless. He had Peter come up to the compound more, disguising the act as a need for help, but the teen had guessed that it was so Tony could watch him, keep him safe.

As Peter picked up on these new habits, he did his best not to worry Tony, knowing all it would do was create (mostly) unnecessary panic. He could usually get out of most sticky situations anyways. However, this was something that Peter didn’t see him getting out of. 

After a quiet elevator ride, the doors opened to reveal the medbay; also known as the place Peter hated **most** in the entire compound. 

“Oh, c’mon Mr. Stark! What are we doing here? It’s just allergies, I swear!” Peter whined nasally as Tony pulled the teen out of the elevator by his elbow.

“Shut up and sit your ass down on that bed.” Tony nodded his head towards one of the gurneys lined up against the wall. 

At this point, Peter knew that he probably wasn’t going to convince Tony that he was fine with just his words, so begrudgingly, Peter sat. 

Almost immediately, Tony began hooking him up to different machines: a cuff on his arm, a clip on his finger, electrodes on his chest, the whole nine yards. As more and more monitors were switched on, the room became louder and louder with different beeps and whirrs. It was starting to make Peter’s headache worse.

Peter sighed, trying his best not to grow exasperated. All he really wanted to do was to back to his room, take some more allergy medication (even if he had popped 4 pills last time) and then take a nice long nap, but no, here he was, trapped in medical hell.

The finishing touch to the whole ensemble, was a thermometer pushed into Peter’s mouth. 

“You know this is crazy, right?” the teen mumbled around the stick under his tongue. 

“Shut it,” Tony replied, waiting for the telltale beep of the device. 

When the beep finally sounded (Peter still isn’t quite sure how Tony heard it over the extremely loud pings of the heart monitor ringing out every couple of seconds), the older man pulled it from Peter’s mouth and held it up to see. 

“100.6 degrees Fahrenheit,” Tony announced. Peter could tell that he was only getting more worried judging by the fact that the crease in his mentor’s brow deepened. 

“I run hot,” Peter explained dismissively. “May figured it out last time I was sick.”

Tony looked up, seemingly unconvinced.

“Besides, If that’s the only thing out of all of this-” he gestured to the machines around him. “That’s telling you that something’s up, who’s to say that’s not wrong?” Peter attempted, knowing it was unlikely to fool Tony. The teen was glad that his mentor had momentarily forgotten about FRIDAY’s scanners, knowing that the AI would surely disagree with his theory.

Before Tony had a chance to respond, Peter let out a powerful sneeze. The teen tried to play it off afterward, acting like it was nothing when it really felt like his face had just been set on fire.

His mentor stared at him incredulously.

“You’re not doing much to help your case, kid.”

Peter groaned. 

“What can I do to prove to you that I’m actually okay, Mr. Stark?” Peter was finding it hard to hide his exasperation now. “It’s just allergies, really, I get them every year.”

“Well, just to be sure, you can stay here for another couple of hours. Y’know, play it safe.” Tony reasoned, to which Peter gawked. 

A few hours? He was only there for the weekend! He wasn’t gonna be allowed back in that lab until he got out of the medbay, and there was no way Peter was wasting time playing patient when he could be working on his suit. He understood that Tony was worried, but Peter was honestly in not that bad of shape. If he fought off the Vulture in worse shape than this, he could stand next to his mentor and hand him stuff for a few hours.

At that moment, the doors to the elevator slid open again, Peter almost immediately thanking god when he saw Natasha walk out of the elevator. Her eyes were cast towards the floor when she stepped out, but once she looked up to see Peter practically bound to the bed by wires, she momentarily froze. 

“Am I interrupting something?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No!” Peter responded instantly, giving the agent the all-clear to continue walking in their direction.

“What’s going on?” 

“I’ve become a human guinea pig for Mr. Stark because I have _allergies.”_ Peter placed extra emphasis on the last word, wiping at his nose again.

“I already acknowledged that you’re smart, Tony, but I think you should stick to engineering.” Natasha chuckled.

“He said he wasn’t feeling good, so I tried to help. Sue me.” Tony grumbled.

Natasha made eye contact with Peter upon hearing this. He shot her a pleading look. The agent hesitated for a moment, knowing that Tony really was just worried, but she also knew that Peter would “figuratively die” if he was cooped up in here for much longer.

“I don’t think Peter needs to be hooked up to a hospital to deal with some seasonal allergies, Tony.” She smiled, placing her hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“You never know.” Tony pointed out, which was followed by another harsh sneeze from Peter.

“You see! That could be pneumonia.” the man pointed at Peter as if to prove his point, making Natasha roll her eyes. 

“Let him be, Tony. The kid needs some of the ‘Super Duper Claritin’ Bruce made for Steve and a nap. He’ll be fine.” She reasoned. 

Peter watched as his mentor considered the idea. It was a moment before Tony finally relented, knowing that he had probably gone a bit overboard.

“Fine. You better be taking it easy though, kid.” Tony grumbled. To this, Peter immediately pulled the electrodes off the bare skin under his t-shirt and nearly yanked the blood pressure cuff off his arm with words of a promise to rest, a thankful look for Natasha, and yet another sneeze.

Peter knew there was no way he would get away with attempting to work on his suit by himself, so there was really no point in heading down to the lab. It was probably for the best anyways; the teen hadn’t been sleeping much recently, starting to cram for finals in a few weeks. Some rest and relaxation couldn’t hurt. Entering the elevator again, Peter asked FRIDAY to take him back up to the floor with the living quarters, this time grabbing the side rail on the metal wall to keep himself upright.

As the elevator began moving upwards, Peter cleared his throat again, which was beginning to grow scratchy. He swallowed hard, rubbing at his throat as if it would do anything to help. At this point, he was beginning to lose confidence in his self-diagnosis of “seasonal allergies” judging by the constant need to clear his throat and the lovely Shrek color his mucus had become. Either way, it couldn’t hurt to take some of Steve’s allergy meds; Any normal cold meds would be flushed out of Peter’s system before he could absorb them. Medicine is medicine, right?

The doors opened with a small chime, allowing Peter to step into the residence floor. He immediately headed in the direction of Steve’s room, which is where Natasha had told him Steve kept his meds. Peter knocked on the door softly before opening it slowly, revealing an empty room. Grateful that Steve wasn’t there (he probably would have been sent back down to the medbay with the way he looked and sounded), Peter showed himself into the bathroom, opening the mirror cabinet. There, he found the bottle of medication that had the label scrawled out on it in Bruce’s handwriting. Peter pulled the top off after struggling with it for a minute (he swore that childproof was a synonym for Peter-proof), and dumped one of the tablets into his hand. Turning on the faucet, the teen threw the tablet back and gulped down some water before snapping the lid back onto the medicine and setting it back where he found it. 

Peter shut Steve’s door with a soft click before turning around to face his options. He could go to the guest room Tony had led him to just hours before to take a nap or something, but he didn’t feel very tired. Instead, the teen chose to enter the small living space equipped with a giant couch and a massive TV to watch a bit of Netflix. He plopped down on the couch, grabbing the remote and clicking the on button for the TV.

Scrolling through the titles, Peter finally settled on The Lion King.

‘You can never go wrong with a classic,’ he reasoned with himself. Clicking on the play button, the sound immediately started blasting through the speakers on a much higher volume than intended. Recoiling at the noise (which did nothing for his ever-worsening headache), Peter began button mashing the volume control button to turn it down. 

After managing to get the volume down, Peter settled in, leaning back against the soft pillows of the couch, trying to find the sweet spot in the cushions. For a while, he was comfortable. _**Was**_ being the operative word. He had peacefully been enjoying watching Simba and Nala play together on-screen when he suddenly felt a strange tickle in his throat, which his body decided to deal with by attempting to eject his lungs from his body. The coughs made his eyes water as he tried to get air into his lungs. After the spell was over, Peter cleared his throat again, hating the way it made his throat burn, his head throb, and his chest ache. At this point, the teen had pretty much no other options but to face reality. 

This wasn’t allergies. 

Peter even went as far as to go grab his phone from the guest room to google his symptoms (the internet only told him that he had cancer, which was no help). Returning to his spot on the couch, Peter groaned and coughed hard into his elbow.

“Great.” He muttered nasally, blowing his nose into the tissues he had brought from his room. At this point, however, he still wasn’t sick enough to be put on bed rest, which meant that he was practically fine, according to Peter’s logic. As long as he didn’t get sicker, he should be fine enough to help Tony finish the suit before the weekend was up.

By now, Peter was about a third of the way through the movie and he was starting to get a little cold. He noticed the lack of blankets around. 

‘What kind of comfy couch doesn’t have a throw blanket to go with it?’ Peter huffed internally. He had to resort to other means to get warm.

“FRIDAY? Can you turn the heat up a little bit, please?” He called out to the AI after pausing the movie. The teen was slightly curled up into himself, trying to make up for the fact that he had lost the ability to thermoregulate since the bite.

“I’m sorry, Peter. I cannot do that.” FRIDAY answered. 

“What? Why not?” Peter asked, pushing himself to more of a sitting position rather than the one he was lying down in previously. 

“My sensors have detected that you are running a fever. Turning up the temperature could have negative effects on your febrile state.” She responded.

Peter groaned in frustration. 

“I just run hot!” He whined in denial, sniffing.

“My sensors detect that you are running at about 102.4 degrees Fahrenheit, Peter. This is higher than your normal baseline temperature of 99.5 degrees Fahrenheit.”

Peter paused.

“I have a fever?” He asked. 

“Yes, Peter.” the AI answered. 

“Huh. Well, that explains a lot.” Peter mumbled, starting to list his ailments in his head. 

“Should I inform boss?” FRIDAY asked.

“No! Definitely not.” Peter protested. 

“Peter, you could benefit from medical treatment. I highly recommend allowing me to inform Mr. Stark of your condition.” 

_“_ ** _Hell no,_** _”_ Peter sneezed into his elbow again. “After I just escaped super-dad? He’d really put me in a hospital if he found out about this.”

“Very well, Peter.”

Peter sighed a breath of relief, which quickly turned into another coughing fit.

‘Headache, sneezing, stuffy nose, coughing, and now a fever,’ Peter thought. ‘Steve’s medicine didn’t do shit.’ 

Peter was going to make sure to ask Bruce for him to make some Super Duper Nyquil at some point because he never wanted to feel this gross again. The headache made his entire head feel heavy, making his neck sore. The pressure within his sinuses _hurt_ and added that cloudy, disoriented feel to Peter’s vision. Every time he sneezed, it felt like someone had pinched his nose shut just before it, making his ears feel like they popped. His throat hurt, making even the idea of talking, coughing, or drinking water sound horrible to the teen. 

Even if he wasn’t tired fortysomething minutes ago, Peter realized that his lack of distraction (realistically, he hadn’t been able to focus on the movie for the last 20 minutes or so), only allowed him to realize how absolutely shitty he felt. He didn’t mean for it to happen but the teen managed to slip into a fitful sleep, interrupted by the occasional wet cough or sniffle. The Lion King continued to play in the background with the volume lowered further than it already was, courtesy of FRIDAY. The lights had been dimmed as well, creating a more ideal sleeping environment for the sick teenager. 

Peter had managed to curl himself into a ball in his sleep, goosebumps covering his exposed arms as he hugged his torso. Every now and then, he would whimper a little, shifting positions to get more comfortable, wiping his nose with the back of his hand in his level of unconsciousness. He looked pitiful, honestly.

And that is how Tony found him. Well, sort of.

The older man had come up to the living quarters for a few reasons. First off, he wanted to check on the kid. He had managed to squash his anxieties until this point by tinkering with different things in the lab, but he had gotten distracted by Peter’s suit lying on a table in the middle of the room. It was the same one he wore when he was snapped away. After staring at it on and off for an extended period of time, Tony couldn’t take it anymore, needing to know if the kid, his kid, was okay.

His need to know about Peter’s health state is the second reason Tony had come upstairs. He wanted to apologize for it. 

Tony knew as soon as the kid had walked out of the medbay that he had overdone it. The kid seemed agitated with Tony’s actions, not something he had seen often. Even Natasha picked up on the fact that it was too much. 

“Overprotective dad, much?” she had said. Tony knew she was just joking, trying to pull his anxiety-riddled brain’s focus for even just a moment. When Tony didn’t reply, she shifted gears. 

“I’m sure he’s fine, Tony. He’s a teenager, being grumpy and secretive is practically all they do.” Natasha reassured, noticing the man’s stare, which was still fixated on the elevator doors where Peter had been moments ago.

“Mmm.” Tony hummed in response, sitting with his arms folded. 

Unsuccessful in her attempts in distracting Tony, Natasha shot him a reassuring smile before walking deeper into the floor, surely to find Bruce. Shortly after, Tony retreated to his lab, where he had been until he left to check on Peter.

The elevator doors opened and Tony was about to move to knock on Peter’s room, but he noticed that the TV was on and there was seemingly no one on the couch. He walked over to the living space and nearly jumped out of his skin to find the teen curled up on the couch.

“Jeez, kid. You can’t scare me like that, you know I have heart issues.” Tony joked, not yet realizing Peter was unconscious. He turned to the TV. 

“Lion King, again? I swear you’ve seen this movie more than anyone on this planet by now.” 

When there was no reply from Peter, Tony turned back to face the couch.

“Pete?” He asked, finally realizing he was asleep. Half of him was tempted to just let the kid sleep, knowing that the medicine probably helped knock him out, but the other half was itching to know how the kid was doing. 

Tony bit his lip, watching the kid sleep for a moment or two, trying to decide. 

‘What if he hasn’t eaten yet?’ the man reasoned with himself. ‘He should probably take more allergy medication too.’ 

Tony’s anxieties eventually won him over. He reached down and started lightly shaking Peter.

“Pete?” He called out softly. 

The teenager shifted uncomfortably, letting out a quiet groan.

“Hey, kiddo. Just checking in to see how you’re doing,” Tony said. 

Another groan. 

“Also, I just wanted to apologize. For earlier. Y’know,” the older man scratched his head at the awkward apology. “I just wanted to be sure you were okay. And you are, so it’s fine! It’s great. Minus the allergies, but we’ll work on that bit.” he rambled. 

Peter had still yet to open his eyes. Noticing this, Tony frowned. 

“Peter?” Tony snapped his fingers over Peter’s face, waiting for a reaction. When there was none, Tony’s stomach sank. Immediately, he pressed his hand to the teen’s forehead, feeling nothing but scorching heat. 

“FRIDAY, lights.” He ordered and the lights came on in an instant, revealing Peter’s appearance. The kid was shivering yet sweating, and his skin had flushed to a lighter shade.

“Oh god, kid.” 

Tony was beginning to panic. His heart froze as it had earlier in the day, and he suddenly found it harder to breathe.

“FRIDAY, vitals,” Tony commanded, voice strained. 

“Peter is running a fever of 104.7 degrees Fahrenheit. He has been in a febrile state for a while now, only growing higher as he slept, boss,” FRIDAY reported. “All other vital signs including to be in normal ranges except for his respiratory rate, which has been lower due to the congestion Peter is experiencing. He has not yet reached respiratory distress.”

“ _ **Shit,**_ _”_ Tony swore. “Just allergies my **_ass,_** ” Tony muttered, trying to keep his breathing even.

“FRI, could you please locate Bruce and tell him to meet me in the medbay?” Tony asked, sliding his arms under Peter’s back and legs, trying to ignore the fact that Peter’s shirt was plastered to his back with sweat. 

“Already done, boss.” the AI replied as Tony carried the teen over to the elevator. The doors swung open, and the older man carried the teen inside, waiting to start the quick descent to the medbay.

Floors zipped by as the elevator dropped down to the correct floor. Bruce was already waiting inside the space when the doors opened. 

“Tony? What’s going on? I’ve been in my lab all day and-” Bruce started to speak but Tony interrupted him.

“It’s Peter. He’s unconscious. FRIDAY said he has a really high fever and I can’t wake him up.” Tony panted, hurriedly depositing Peter on the bed he had occupied earlier that same day. 

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Tony. This isn’t exactly my field of expertise.” Bruce pointed out, eyeing Peter anxiously.

“Well, I sure as hell can’t do anything!” Tony snapped. Bruce looked down. Immediately realizing what he did, Tony softened. 

“Sorry. Please, Bruce. Just help him. Do whatever you can. Please **.** ” Tony practically begged, biting his bottom lip. 

Bruce turned back towards the teen occupying the bed and took a deep breath before stepping towards the gurney and beginning to work. 

An oxygen mask was pulled down onto Peter’s nose and mouth. His t-shirt was tugged off over his head (which was difficult for Bruce to manage on his own) and the electrodes from earlier retook their places on Peter’s chest. Sharp chimes filled the air. Bruce glanced over at Tony, who stood with his arms crossed, clearly on the verge of a panic attack. Recognizing this, Bruce figured it would be better to put him to work.

“He’s probably dehydrated,” He called to Tony. “Do you know how to put in an IV?” 

“Do I look like someone who would know how to do that?!” Tony exclaimed.

Bruce shrugged as he wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Peter’s right arm. 

“There’s a kit in the drawer, get it and I’ll talk you through it,” Bruce called, moving towards the freezer in the room to grab a few ice packs.

Tony darted towards the cabinets, nearly knocking over a cart in the process. He began digging through the drawers, pulling nearly everything out and tossing it onto the counters. 

“Ah! I found it!” Tony exclaimed, carrying the still-wrapped medical supplies over to Peter’s bed and placing them between his legs on the gurney. 

“Okay, good,” Bruce replied, placing ice packs on Peter’s neck, chest, and legs. He started to multitask, guiding Tony through unwrapping the materials and finding a vein within Peter’s left arm. 

“Now just swab the area and push the needle into the vein,” Bruce explained, eyes on the monitors above Peter’s head. His respiratory rate was beginning to improve. 

Tony finished the process fairly smoothly; Bruce figured that giving him something to focus on was the only thing from keeping the Avenger from launching into a meltdown. After the IV was placed and fluids were flowing, Bruce switched gears. 

“What are his other symptoms?” He asked.

“Um, well, when he was in here earlier, he was sneezing and his nose was a leaky mess. He also sounded like his throat was bothering him,” Tony tried to recall, the memories a bit foggy within his anxious state.

“When he was here earlier? You mean to say that he’s been like this?” Bruce asked concernedly.

“Not like _**this**_ _._ He told me it was just allergies!” Tony defended himself, tone filled with unease.

Suddenly, a low moan interrupted their conversation, cutting Bruce off before he could speak again. Both men instantly turned their attention back to the teen, who was beginning to move again.

“Pete?” Tony moved closer to Peter’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder softly. 

“I was sure it _**was**_ just allergies.” a gruff mumble came from Peter’s mouth, slightly muffled by the oxygen mask. Peter slowly opened his eyes, letting out a small wet cough. 

“Jeez, kid,” Tony muttered. The teenager was going to be the death of him. 

Peter pulled the oxygen mask down weakly when he noticed Bruce holding the thermometer, allowing the stick to be placed under his tongue. 

“Well, I can confirm that this is definitely not allergies, Peter.” the scientist said decidedly, reading the screen of the device after the telltale beep. “Your temperature is 103.8 degrees.” 

Tony was able to calm himself down slightly upon hearing this. The fever went down and he was awake. As long as he got some proper medicine, he would be fine. At least, that’s what Tony kept trying to tell himself. 

“I think I agree with you on that, Doctor Banner.” Peter joked weakly, sniffing. Bruce gave him a small smile in return along with a tissue. Peter accepted it gratefully. 

“Do you have any other symptoms we should know about?”

“Well, I’ve had this terrible headache since about 1:00 this afternoon,” Peter explained, swallowing thickly. “It’s still there, but it’s more like pain behind my nose and eyes now. Also, my throat really hurts.” 

“Hmm,” Bruce hummed. “Sounds like you’ve got a nasty sinus infection.” 

Peter sneezed again, leading the scientist to hand him another tissue.

“Thanks.” the teen said gravelly. He blew his nose into it, whimpering softly at the pressure in his face.

Tony sat still, his hand that was on Peter’s shoulder now sitting in his lap. He hadn’t said anything for a while, which Peter had just noticed. The teen ran his eyes over his mentor, who was staring at the floor. Silence fell over the trio. 

Bruce watched as Peter tried to read Tony’s expression for a moment before excusing himself.

“I’m going to go get started on an antibiotic for you, Peter.” He said, pointing over his shoulder. 

The teen turned back to Bruce, nodding silently before returning his attention to Tony. Peter watched the older man for a few moments, the silence only broken by a few sniffles and the beeping of the monitors above his head. It took a few moments of deliberating back in forth in his head before Peter attempted to communicate with Tony. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter whispered lowly, heart sinking slightly when Tony didn’t move or respond.

Peter knew he had screwed up, and it wasn’t the current setting that gave it away. All the things Peter had done, all his actions from that day were an attempt to not worry Tony, but all it had done was make things worse. Peter’s stomach was hurting, but not from illness. Guilt sat there like a rock, more painful than anything Peter had endured from his monster of a sinus infection.

Turning away from the older man, Peter attempted to take a few deep breaths (which was notably more difficult since the oxygen mask was positioned down at his neck. He needed to fix this; Peter wasn’t entirely sure how to do so, but he was sure that he couldn’t go wrong with an apology. Peter let his head fall back on the pillows he was propped against, breathing deeply through his mouth.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen, Mr. Stark,” Peter began to ramble softly, coming out as more of a mumble than a statement. The teen rubbed at his face while continuing. “Really, I just didn’t want to worry you, because you get really stressed over me and... and I’m sorry.” 

Tony finally looked up at this. Peter’s eyes flicked back over to look at his mentor.

It was then that Peter realized he was on the verge of tears.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked cautiously, worrying that he had only made Tony more upset. 

Peter was confused when the first words out of Tony’s mouth were “You’re gonna be the death of me, kid. You know that?” 

“W-what?” Peter asked nasally. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” Tony deadpanned again. 

Peter wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. 

“Sorry?” was the best he could come up with in his febrile state.

Tony sighed, scooting forward on the small swivel stool he had been sitting on. 

“Not your fault,” Tony replied. “Well, it kind of is... But it’s also mine.” 

Tony recalled finding the teen on the sofa upstairs (he would never look at that couch the same again). Peter didn’t feel good; He had told Tony this, and what did he do? He practically became the parent who threatened to wrap their kid in bubble wrap (and maybe attempted it once or twice). Everything he had done to protect Peter had driven him away. Therefore, this whole ordeal was partially Tony’s fault and he felt terrible about it. What’s worse is that the man hadn’t gotten to apologize for it before it had affected Peter. At least he got a chance to do it now.

“I’m sorry too, Pete,” Tony said quietly. “I was trying to tell you this earlier, but...” His voice faded out before he continued. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. Just... ever since the snap, I...”

“I know. You don’t have to say it, Mr. Stark.” Peter replied knowingly. He thought of the new habits Tony had picked up; as annoying as it was at times, he really did just want the best for the teen. 

Peter coughed slightly on the side before continuing. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, either. It’s okay though because you found me. I’ll be okay.” 

“You will be,” Tony said, saying it to convince both himself and Peter. 

Both sat in silence for a moment, reflecting on the whole situation. Honestly, it was quite the logistical mess of feelings. Both understood the other, though. Peter didn’t want to worry Tony, and Tony didn’t want to lose the kid again. That wasn’t too hard to reach a compromise on. Eventually, Peter piped up again. 

“Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, Pete?”

“Can I... could I have a hug?” Peter asked timidly, sniffling slightly.

“That depends,” Tony replied, making the teen look back on him. “Are you going to get me sick?” he teased. 

“Mr. Starkkkkk!” Peter whined. 

“Fine, fine. Whatever you want kid, so long as you agree not to scare the living shit out of me again.”

Peter held up a finger as if to debate a point. “As long as you promise not to drag me down here the next time I let out a sneeze, I believe we have a deal.” 

Smiling, Tony pushed himself up from the chair. 

“I believe we have a deal, Mr. Parker.” He stuck out his hand which Peter grasped weakly and shook to solidify their agreement. 

“C’ mere, kiddo.”

Embracing the teen under the mess of wires and ice packs was somewhat difficult, but they managed to make it work. Peter was grateful for the warmth Tony’s body brought, as he had been shivering for the last 15 minutes and it was starting to get irritating

“By the way, You should really invest in a throw blanket for the couch upstairs,” Peter added when they broke off the embrace. Tony rolled his eyes.

“Just get better and I’ll bury you in throw blankets, alright kid?”

Peter smiled. 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

**Author's Note:**

> this has been posted on my tumblr for a hot minute and I decided to finally post it here. i hope you enjoyed it!  
> \- erin


End file.
